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Silver and Plum

Silver had a simple heart, as simple as his form.

He was a wooden kitten, small enough to fit in a child’s hand. His body was made from only two pieces of wood fitted together, a square flat piece for the head, and a longer flat piece for the body. Not even a tail. But his triangular ears and large round eyes made it obvious that he was a cat. His golden eyes stayed open morning and night.

For many years Silver’s simple heart held only two things: a promise and a master.

His master’s name was Yingu. When Yingu was young, he would tuck Silver into his coat pocket and touch him every now and then, which made Silver happy. A master could own countless things: clothes, bowls, cups, a bed, pillows, toys … Yingu was the master of many things, yet Silver had only one master.

One day Silver rolled under the bed and stayed there for many days and nights. He never saw his master search for him, but what did it matter? He could smell the young man, and he was a wooden kitten with a master.

Then came the worst part. Yingu moved away, but Silver did not. The new owner of the house came, and after a thorough cleaning, Silver and a pile of dust and debris were whisked out the door to a new destination: a trash bin by the side of the road. Silver missed the bin and fell on the ground.

Silver was confused for a long while before he realized, Oh my god, I have no master! He was at a loss.

Without a master, what am I? he asked himself.

I am nothing without a master, he concluded after thinking for a few days. This sort of reasoning did not make him unique, since these are exactly the same thoughts that all discarded things in the world have.

I wish I could just disappear, he thought, leaning against the trash bin. Of course, he couldn’t disappear right away, since wood tends to last a long time. If he could shut his eyes maybe he would feel better, but poor Silver couldn’t even do that. All he could do was keep his rounded eyes wide open, passing endless days in lonely sadness, until he turned numb and rotted and faded away. How awful!

Suddenly Silver remembered the promise.

It was the only thing left in his simple heart.

How good it was to have a promise, not just emptiness!

How long ago it had been …

In Silver’s heart, the place called Yunhe was the most beautiful in the world. He had been born there along with Plum in a wooden toy factory.

He and Plum had both belonged to a girl named Meizhu.

Meizhu and Yingu lived in the great mountains of Yunhe, their entire village bordered by mountains on all sides. Terraced fields flowed from mountain foot to mountaintop in rippling layers like ocean waves.

Yingu and Meizhu were best friends.

One day, Yingu said that he had found a lovely spot, so he took Meizhu’s hand and off they ran. The soft ridges curved and turned as they worked their way up the mountain side, layer by layer. It was early summer, and the fields glistened with bright waters and delicate green shoots. A Chinese yew sat almost at the top. No one knew quite how old the tree was, probably hundreds of years, and it was so wide that three or four people could have reached their arms around it without their fingertips touching. One thick branch stood out from the others, and Yingu and Meizhu climbed up and sat on it, shoulder to shoulder.

A thin layer of mist rose out of the valley, like white gossamer blown by the wind. The thousand-year-old rice paddies flowed from the mountaintops to the mountain feet, the ridges dancing softly and embracing each other. The shining water of their arms formed mirrors of all shapes and sizes that reflected the sky and the clouds along with the new rice shoots.

“It’s lovely,” said Meizhu.

“We can come here often from now on,” said Yingu.

“But I’m going away to the city to stay with my aunt while I go to school,” she said.

Yingu was stunned and sat silent for a very long time.

Meizhu fished two wooden kittens out of her pocket and put one in Yingu’s hand. Her aunt had bought them on Yunhe Street and sent them to her. The two kittens looked exactly alike, one in a darker shade of wood and one in a lighter color, and both had golden eyes so large that they took up most of the face. Although they were simple, their indescribable sweetness delighted people from the first glance.

“Let’s give them names.”

“Okay.”

“Mine is called Plum.”

“Then I’ll call mine Silver.”

They let Plum and Silver sit next to each other on the branch beside them.

“At this time next year, we will come here to see the view,” said Meizhu.

“At this time next year, we will come here to see the view,” said Yingu.

They didn’t hear the two wooden kittens whispering to each other on the tree branch.

“How lovely—I have a name! I am Plum.”

“How lovely—I have a name, too! I am Silver.”

They each had a name and a master and a heart that beat with joy.

They touched their heads gently together and said, like their masters,

“At this time next year, we will come here to see the view.”

“At this time next year, we will come here to see the view.”

They heard their masters say, “Pinky promise, and don’t forget for a hundred years.”

So Plum and Silver also said, “Pinky promise, and don’t forget for a hundred years.” They nestled together with two things in their hearts: a promise and a master. They were satisfied.

Then Meizhu took Plum with her to Yunhe City. Not long after that, Yingu moved with his family to a place outside Yunhe, and they did not see each other again.

Every summer Silver anxiously cried out, “Master, master, go back to the village.” Summer after summer he shouted, but his master never listened. Yingu seemed to have forgotten. It is not unusual for children to forget promises. They constantly grow and change and have many things to keep in their hearts.

How good it was that Silver still had a promise in his heart, not just emptiness!

The promise lifted Silver’s spirits and made him feel different from all the other discarded things.

He straightened his crooked body and stared at the road in front of him.

He didn’t have a master anymore. He didn’t belong to anyone. If he didn’t belong to anyone, then he belonged to himself. He was his own.

“Am I my own?” He felt a little shy and not quite used to the idea.

“Then—I can go keep that promise?” Silver moved his body. Back when he belonged to Yingu, he wasn’t supposed to move at all—which is the basic nature of all inanimate belongings. It felt good to move. Was this “freedom”? When he was with Yingu, Silver hadn’t thought about it much, and when Yingu left, Silver had not thought about much at all, because of his sadness.

His golden eyes held a vision of Plum, and he said happily, “I am setting off.”

Alas, his simple heart forgot that the promise had been made and broken long ago, and he did not know how far it was to Yunhe. He did know that if he asked for directions first and then traveled in the right direction, he would get closer and closer.

He did not mope about his body’s flaws. For example, he did not have four flexible legs like a real cat—just a few grooves that were supposed to look like legs, but he couldn’t spread them apart to walk. He had to hop, half an inch at a time.

Silver didn’t care that he could only hop in half-inch steps. He would go.

But he had to ask for directions first. Who could he ask? He glanced around and saw an ant.

“Hello, do you know which direction Yunhe is?”

“I am not interested in any direction except the direction of my food,” replied the ant.

Another ant passed by, and Silver asked, “Hello, do you know how to get to Yunhe?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Silver thought, One ant didn’t know. Two ants didn’t know. But that doesn’t mean none of them know. He waited by the side of the road and when a long line of ants came along, he asked them one by one.

One big-headed ant pointed with its antennae and said, “Go that way.”

Silver thanked the ant and happily hopped forward, half an inch at a time. He hopped for countless days and nights until a large river blocked his path. That ant with the big head must have thought Silver was looking for the Yunhe River and had honestly been doing its best to help. Silver stared disconsolately at the surging river and worried about how he would ever cross it. His simple mind didn’t come up with an answer right away, but he kept trying.

In fact, there was a bridge not far away, but he was too small to see it.

A bird flew down and sat beside him.

“Do you know how to cross the river?” Silver asked in a hurry.

“Why would you want to cross the river?” asked the bird.

“I’m going to a place called Yunhe.”

“Yunhe sounds far away. You won’t get there if you go this way.”

“But an ant told me I would get there if I went this direction.”

“An ant never travels a mile from its nest. How could it know?”

Silver decided that the bird was making a great deal of sense, so he said, “You fly far—you must know.”

“I don’t.”

Silver thought, Just because one bird does not know, that doesn’t mean all birds do not know. So he looked up and called to every bird flying overhead, “Hello, do you know where Yunhe is?”

His voice was too small for most birds to hear, but a low-flying bird did, and landed in front of him. “I’ve heard of that place, though I’ve never been there. Why do you want to go?”

Silver told his story quite earnestly.

When he finished the bird sighed. “You won’t get there.”

“I’ll ask the other birds,” Silver said. “Someone must know.”

The bird looked at his wide, innocent eyes and took pity. “Go ask the winds—they blow almost every-where.”

Silver’s luck was good—he got directions from the first wind he asked.

“Yunhe is to the south,” the wind told him.

“I know where it is now! How happy I am!”

“Why would you want to go to Yunhe?”

Silver solemnly explained his promise to Plum.

The wind laughed, creating a tornado that swept Silver up into the air. Luckily, he was so small that when he fell to the ground, he bounced a few times and then stood up.

“How could you ever get there, little fellow?”

“It’s there and it doesn’t move. If I walk and it stays still, I’ll get there.” Silver’s simple heart had already drawn a line connecting himself to Yunhe, and he imagined himself hopping straight along that line, making it shorter inch by inch.

The wind looked into his simple eyes and said, gently, “You can’t get there in a straight line, silly thing. Ah, the world is full of detours, and there will always be something in your way. You’re so small that it would be hard work just to get around a cow patty.”

“The road will always get shorter and shorter,” Silver said.

The wind froze. He had blown all over the world, and yet never met anyone so foolish and simple, or anyone who spoke wiser words.

The wind was moved. “Let me give you a ride.”

So Silver flew, somersaulting with delight in the wind. He had never thought he would fly one day.

This wind passed him on to another wind. “Hey! Take this little fellow to Yunhe—a place as beautiful as a fairytale.”

One by one the winds passed Silver along and delivered him where he wanted to go.

And so it was that Silver got back to Yunhe, back to the foot of that Chinese yew.

It was early summer, and the fields from the mountaintops down into the valleys sparkled with water and green grass. The grass made the water green, and the green water reflected the sky and the trees and the clouds, and the whole world was clear and bright.

Silver stood under the tree and shouted, “Plum, I’m here!”

“Silver, are you here?” Plum looked down from her perch in the tree.

Meizhu had never brought her back in all the years since they left. It was very common for a child to forget a promise. Meizhu had left Plum on a windowsill, until one day a gust of wind blew her downstairs. She lay alone in a damp corner by the wall. Moss grew all over her, yet Meizhu never came searching.

One night a mouse carried her off but dropped her again halfway to where it was going.

Plum could hardly believe that she was a kitten without a master. Like Silver, she was simple-hearted, and without her master, her only thought was of the promise.

So she set off.

She hopped along, half an inch at a time, and a curious raven with a large beak followed her for a year.

Finally, he couldn’t help asking, “Where are you going?”

Plum solemnly told her story.

The raven thought the promise so beautiful that he wept. He had never had a beautiful promise of his own, so he decided to help her.

The raven scooped her up with his large beak and carried her into the mountains of Yunhe. There were many mountains and many trees, and they spent a whole year searching for the right one. When at last they found the Chinese yew that was so old it couldn’t get much older, the raven plopped her on a branch, wished her good luck, and flapped away.

Plum was alone in the old yew for many summers. She waited happily every day, without anxiety or disappointment. There was only one thought in her head: Silver would come.

Plum was up in the tree. Silver was at the foot of the tree.

Silver was only a wooden kitten—he couldn’t climb up the tree. He jumped and jumped at the tree trunk but bounced off of it. He jumped again and knocked against the same trunk.

His antics made a squirrel giggle, and when it stopped laughing, it carried him up the tree on its back.

Large golden eyes looked into large golden eyes. The promise was long overdue, but what did it matter? They hopped toward each other, half an inch at a time, until their heads gently came together.

And when their heads lightly touched, in a world far, far away, the adult Yingu and Meizhu, who had grown up apart, suddenly felt their eyes fill with tears. What was happening? They wiped their eyes and put their hands over their hearts, trembling with wonder—as if swept up in the tender magic of the story that was happening.


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